


Heart Heat

by Secretness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Complete, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretness/pseuds/Secretness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas head home after a long hunt, and run out of gas in Washington mountains.  It wasn't entirely unexpected though. They were not, however, counting on the icy mountain night air that could freeze Dean through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Heat

The impala sputtered and began to slow on the road. 

Dean sighed and pumped the breaks, guiding his car as far into the dirt on the side of the road as the evergreen trees would allow. He knew making it back to a gas station would be miraculous, but, given that he had an angel riding shotgun, he had hoped.

“Dean, what is it?” asked Castiel from beside him with a frown.

“Out of gas,” Dean said, pulling his keys from the ignition and sitting back defeatedly, “We couldn’t stop or we’d lose our tail, and I wasn’t expecting to end up in the mountains. With a 12 mile a gallon engine…. It’s going to be a chilly rest of the night.”

“We should go and get more gas,” said Castiel as though it were obvious.

“The last station was about ten miles back,” Dean told him, reaching back over his seat to a green cooler for a water bottle, “By the time I get there, get gas, and make it back up the mountain, it’ll be morning anyway. And I probably would die of hypothermia before I even get to the station.”

Castiel thought on it for a moment, and suggested, “I will not die of hypothermia. I will go and get gas.”

“No,” said Dean sharply, nailing him with a glare, “You can’t fly, healing is difficult, we’re not risking me finding you frozen on the side of a mountain.”

“I can maintain my vessel,” Castiel shot back, but went on at a different angle, “We could call Sam.”

“He’s two hours out and probably unconscious in his bed. Doubt he’d even answer his phone. Not a big deal, dude. I’ll catch some shut eye, you… ponder or something.”

Sealing up his water bottle, Dean dropped it back in the cooler and flipped himself into the back seat, stretching out his legs as much as he could, folded his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. 

At midnight after the conclusion of a several day hunt, sleep was not difficult to come by. Castiel sat perfectly still and completely straight, just staring out the window. The trees were too thick and tall to see the night sky or the other surrounding mountains, but he wasn’t really looking at them. 

He could maintain the integrity and health of his vessel, he was sure of it. Why was Dean not sure?

Within 15 minutes, he could tell the temperature in the car had dropped significantly, and after a half hour, Dean let out a shuddered breath and rolled over, tucking himself into the back of the seat. Concern trickled through the angel as he watched his friend with a frown. How cold was it going to get?

Another 10 minutes and he heard Dean let out a sigh and watched him sit up. 

“Is it too cold for you to sleep, Dean?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, fucking snuggling with Jack Frost back here.”

Cas’ eyebrows rose slightly, but before he could ask, Dean cut him off with a wave of his pink fingers, and said, “No, that’s not--nevermind.”

“Are there blankets in the trunk?”

“No.”

Castiel climbed his way into the backseat and landed beside his human. Peeling the tan coat from his shoulders, he wiggled out of it and held it aloft for Dean to take.

“Would you like my coat?”

“I’m fine,” said Dean, leaning away ever so slightly, looking around himself and contemplating on the warmest position in the car.

“You need--”

“No.”

“Dean, take it.”

“I said no.”

With something remarkably similar to a glare, Castiel opened his coat and shook it down. Dean squirmed as his angel tried to wrap it around him, but Castiel strengthened his movements, putting some angel juice into them. Dean grunted as his arms were easily forced down and the trench coat was pulled tight around his shoulders, sinching him in. They sat awkwardly for a minute. Dean’s eyes slid over to the person next to him, hesitantly seeing if Cas was done with him, and decided he looked entirely too proud of himself for getting the coat on Dean. Rolling his shoulders around, Dean tried to get more comfortable in his new, forced outer layer. 

“Dean,” asked Castiel, sobered and cautious now, “How cold will it get?”

“Dunno.”

“How much cold can you survive?”

This time it took Dean a couple seconds longer to answer, “Dunno.”

And with that single word’s huff of air, they both realized they could see his breath. Dean sat back, curled into the long coat. Trembling fingers reached up and popped the collar, nuzzling the end of his pink nose down into it.

“Give me your hands,” said Castiel gently, holding out his own. 

“Nah, I’m good.”

Dean sniffled.

“You are obviously not good. Give me your hands, Dean.”

But Dean just shook his head. Castiel didn’t push. His arms dropped, but he didn’t otherwise move, just stared at Dean, whose eyes were closed and face getting pinker by the minute.

Faced with the challenge, Castiel knew he did not have the power to heal Dean continuously if he came close to actually freezing. Were there other angels, real angels, that would respond to him if he called? Would they save Dean, send him back to his brother before taking Castiel to where his punishment waits for him?

Without opening his eyes, Dean grumbled, “I can feel you staring at me.”

A cloud swirled in front of him as he sighed and looked over at his friend. Forcing his stiff muscles to push him up, he held out one hand lazily, like he was doing the other  
man a favor. Castiel grasped it at once. Dean sucked in a breath as his hand lost its bone deep chill, replaced by radiating warmth. Without thinking, Dean’s other hand shot over and laid on the back of Castiel’s palm. The angel offered his other hand, and it was immediately taken. Shivers rocked Dean’s body, more apparently now that he had Castiel’s hands in a death grip. As time went on, Dean’s shakes grew more violent. 

“Cas…” said Dean thickly, his lips numb, “Could you…?”

He dipped his head and tugged one set of their hands closer to him.

“Come here, Dean,” Castiel said quietly, moving closer.

He turned to face Dean and put a leg up on the bench seat, pushing it back into the cushion. Carefully he pried his hands free and tore out of his suit jacket. Leaning forward, he pulled Dean’s legs together and wrapped and tied the calves with his jacket. One arm pushed up under Dean’s knees, the other worming its way between Dean’s back the seat, Castiel pulled him closer.

“Dude… C’mon… No snu…. No….”

“You may complain after you are warm,” Castiel told him crisply, drawing him the rest of the way in.

Dean’s resistance was minimal. It took too much energy to convince his frozen muscles to do what he wanted. Castiel tucked him into his chest. His left hand came around the back of Dean and took both of Dean’s, beating back the ice that seeped into Dean’s fingers. Reaching up with his right, Castiel gently slid his hand over the scruff on Dean’s chin and rested softly on the painfully prickling skin of his cheek. At once the cold sear vanished. Dean gasped in a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face as far as he could into the juncture of Castiel’s neck. 

“Thanks, Cas,” he whispered, biting his lips one at a time, relieved to feel his teeth against them.

“You are very welcome, Dean.”

Maybe halfway, probably no even, Castiel thought. The temperature would gradually increase at about five in the morning and at approximately nine o’clock, they could call Sam or start walking to the station, but he had to get Dean to survive until then. While keeping a human’s hands and face warm were easy, threading power through the rest of Dean’s body was slowly draining him. He didn’t warm him completely but enough to keep Dean’s violent shakes down to shivers. As the night went on, he devoted more and more of his strength to keep Dean warm enough to live, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so. 

He felt drained. Without another option, Castiel repurposed the energy used to maintain his vessel. After a couple minutes, he felt Dean’s muscles relax in his arms. And  
after a few more minutes, he felt himself shiver. Gradually the skin on his back, protected by the single cotton layer of dress shirt, spiked with ice and painfully stiffened. Yes, he would live, and he would function normally as soon as his grace recovered, but he now understood how unpleasant it was going to be to freeze. He leaned his face down and pressed it to the top of Dean’s head. With an icy shudder, Castiel closed his eyes and focused on breathing in the human smell that could never be anything other than Dean. 

Dean surfaced in and out of dozing, more frequently than before, he noticed. He felt it, the cold slowly gathering in the tips of his fingers and on the end of his nose, and frowned.

“Hey, Cas, you okay?” he muttered, burrowing further into the body that held him.

He got no response.

“Cas?”

Dean tried to pick up his head, but it didn’t go very far. He twisted his neck and realized Cas’ head was there above him.

“Hey,” Dean said, trying to sit up.

But Cas didn’t move. More than that, his eyes didn’t move. They were half open, staring at the seat beyond Dean, unmoving, unblinking. Dean yanked his hands free from Cas’ stiff fingers and cupped his chin. He tried to move the angel’s head, but it was difficult, and Dean feared he would break Cas’ neck. 

“Cas!”

With fumbling hands, Dean yanked the jacked free from around his legs and threw it over Castiel’s shoulders. Stripping himself of the trench coat, he tucked it all around Cas as tight as he could, covering as much as possible.

“Come back,” Dean said urgently, “I need you, damn it. You better come back, or I’m gonna kill you.”

He set his hands on Cas’ white face again, his eyes lingering in horror on its blue lips. This time, his fingers brushed something wet. Pulling himself up to get a better view, his hand slid through frost on the back of Cas’ head, tiny icicles that made the dark hair crunchy. 

“Jesus,” Dean muttered, and with both hands brushed it all away. 

He could feel the cold coming back into him, but as he set himself to hunker back down into Cas’ arms, something caught his eye out the back windshield. 

Sunlight. Dawn was coming.

“See, we’re going to make it,” Dean said more to himself, “We’ll be okay.”

Repositioning himself exactly where he had been before waking up, he squeezed his eyes shut and buried himself back into Cas’ frigid body, his mind twisting itself in knots over his angel and the time it would take the sun to warm the air.

The car was easily lit now, and Dean began to think possibly his returned shaking was once again receding. Pressure compressed him from his back and side. The arms around his torso were holding him tighter and tighter, pulling him into the angel’s chest.

“Cas?” Dean said urgently, his hand reaching up again.

“Dean,” it was barely more than a whisper, “Dean, are you alright?”

Laughter nearly consumed Dean as euphoric alleviation seeped through him. It seemed more manly than crying.

“Yeah, better than you.”

Cas pulled him closer and very slowly pressed his face into the top of Dean’s head. They trembled together in cold and relief.

Heat worked its way into the car and warmed them like an oven. 

But they didn’t move.

“I was worried you died,” Dean said quietly against Cas’ collar.

“It was the only way I could keep you alive,” Castiel mumbled into Dean’s hair, “Didn’t have the power….”

He nuzzled his nose closer. He threaded his hand through Dean’s bristly hair and pressed his lips into it.

Dean didn’t say anything, didn’t protest or move to stop him. 

For several minutes neither one of them moved again, and then Cas’ deep voice washed over, “We should go and get the gas for the car.”

Outside on the pavement, as Cas properly adjusted his jacket and coat, Dean tried not to notice the stiff, still frozen movement of the angel’s legs and the purple patches that shadowed through his white shirt. Dean grabbed his water and locked up the car. They began their long trek down to the ten mile gas station.

When the car was no longer visible behind them, Dean finally looked up from his feet and reached out to lightly grip Castiel’s elbow. 

“Hey, Cas,” he said quietly, looking more at the other man’s shoulder than his face, “Just so…. I wanted to…. Cas, you don’t need all your powers to my angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine knows I usually only write dark stuff, so she challenged me write fluff. I didn't do too well, but I would like to expand my writing, so if anyone has suggestions or critiques, please let me know.


End file.
